


Terrible Feeling

by beechoven



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Date Rape, Drugged Sex, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Unconsciousness, Virgil Whump, Whump, bad bad things, heed the tags pls, hurt!virgil, i lowkey feel bad about writing this but here it is., i've got other stuff you can read you don't have to read this one if you dont want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beechoven/pseuds/beechoven
Summary: The night just keeps getting worse
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags

It wasn’t often that any of the boys got to get out and socialise. Sure there were plenty of them on the island, all of them fine company so long as you didn’t spend too long with any one. But every now and then there was the itch to get out, to see a new face. Importantly - a face they weren’t rescuing.

Occasionally though,  _ very  _ occasionally, they got to go out into the real world, into someplace where no one knew who they were, out to see how the rest of the world enjoyed their spare time. 

Virgil was on one such reprieve that night.

He was out in a rowdy bar in the city. There had been a rugby match on that night and the home team had won, so naturally the bar was now full of life, music, and drunk, celebrating sports fans. 

Virgil, who by chance of good fortune had been wearing the colours of the winning team, had gotten to share in the revels and the celebrations, everyone was shouting everyone drinks, him included, and about five beers in he was relaxed enough that he didn’t notice how he had gotten thrown into the ring of a drinking competition - just him, and a nominee from amongst the losing teams supporters. 

He was sat across the table from a tall broad man with a sour yet smug look on his thin mustached face. face. He looked down at the short table that was spread with about twenty of the cheapest shots money could buy.

The opposition on the other side cheered as his opponent took his first shot. He pursed his lips and then gave a wide grin. 

“You’re up tough stuff.” He said with a warm southern drawl.

People behind his were cheering and patting him on the shoulders excitedly. With a tipsy smile and a determined look he reached forward and took his first shot without flinching. The men behind him cheered uproariously. 

By way of a challenge, the man across him downed two - one after another, and Virgil met his pace. 

He figured at this rate he could probably keep going to keep the crowd happy before he absorbed too much of it, even if it meant making himself sick outside later to avoid alcohol poisoning. Besides, he was enjoying himself. It wasn’t so often that one had the good fortune to go out on a night where everyone was in good spirits, well liked and forgetting their cares. He smiled broadly, his cheeks pinkened under the warm light of the bar. 

Yes, he could’ve kept going at this rate, but his opponent was on some other game. it made Virgil angry that the sly smile wouldn't leave his space despite the overwhelming disapproval of the crowd. He was starting to take his time between shots, presenting elaborate sarcastic toasts to the members of the other team, to which the patrons on Virgil’s side of the match were becoming increasingly disgruntled. They booed and hollered for him to down his shot already. 

Virgil’s world was starting to get a little tippy by the time his turn at shot number eight finally wheeled around. 

After a particularly personal dig at one of the players before taking his shot, the crowd booed harder than before, threatening violence and hurling insults, and more than a couple of very riled drinkers were suddenly shouting for Virgil to make a speech against the other team in their defence. 

He was vaguely aware of all of this going on, as he was hauled to his feet. Something in the back of his mind was telling him to prepare a brilliant and cutting commentary on the players and players' mothers of the rivals to a team whose name he didn’t know, in a sport he didn’t watch, or strictly speaking know the rules of.

Thankfully he was saved from having to make any such speech, as the world around him spun and his knees buckled from under him, sending him crashing into the table and spilling all the remaining shots on his opponent. Both sides laughed, the opposition at the boy who couldn’t hold his liquor, and Virgil’s side at the man who was now using his neckerchief to frantically sop up cheap vodka from his boots and jeans. 

People clapped him on the back as he tried to rise from the sticky bar floor. A hand reached out to him and pulled him to his feet, and a firm grip came about his shoulder. He looked over to see the man who had been facing off, saying something in the way of “He’s alright.” to the crowd, and laughing.

“Sorry about your boots.” Virgil said, trying not to sway too much.

“No harm done, son. Nothing like a rowdy sports crowd to get you a free drink huh?” He said with a pat to Virgil’s shoulder. 

He was still pretty out of it. He knew he was drunk. It wasn’t so much a question of being unable to see what was happening, more just the apathy he had toward the consequences right then, especially as he was so comfortable and warm under the heated lights of the bar. 

“Speaking of why not one for the road?” The man said, producing a full shot seemingly from thin air. It glistened clear and fresh in the glass. “After all you never did manage lucky number eight? Wouldn't want to disappoint your team eh boy?” He said, pulling him in close and raising the shot in a toast.

Virgil looked around to find that through the hustle and bustle many members were still gathered around waiting. Virgil took the shot from him and downed it stoically. The whole bar cheered and the music picked up and everyone went back to celebrating.

“Let’s get this man a cab huh?” The man laughed out to the crowd, his mustached smile curling brightly under his sharp eyes. He patted him hard on the chest and took the empty shot glass from his hand.

He was glad to be leaving the bar, he could feel the amount of drunk that he was becoming more overwhelming than fun, and he dimly remembered his earlier plan of purging his quota before he got alcohol poisoning. The thought was quickly washed away by the cocktail in his head, being distracted by the fact that he was now outside, breathing in the cool night air that smelled of cigarette smoke, a scent he normally hated but that was now somehow welcome.

Evidently he became aware that the man who he had lost to was the one walking him out, he was pinned tightly to his side which was probably a good thing as he would’ve been on the floor if not. But he was starting to feel so tired all of a sudden, and the man was setting a cruelly fast pace, leaving Virgil stumbling along to keep up.

“Hey it’s ok mist’r really I c’n ge’ my own cab.” Virgil mumbled. He pushed away from him gently and they both stopped. 

“You sure about that son? You don’t look so good.” He became suddenly aware that they were not somehow several blocks from the bar, though Virgil hadn’t remembered walking that far.

“Yeah lemme jus-” He stopped and pulled out his phone from his back pocket, squinting to try and read the screen, or to remember why he had opened it in the first place. He swayed and held a hand out to brace himself against the taller man, who held him steady with a faint chuckle. 

“Let me help out with that.” He said, and he pulled his phone from his hands. Virgil tried to say something in protest but found that the words stuck in his throat. He felt so sick all of a sudden, so dizzy and so very tired. Normally a feeling like that would have damn near sobered him up, even if just for a second. His knees wobbled weakly, and he couldn’t do anything to fight as his arm was slung around the man's shoulders and he was dragged off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con in this chapter, please proceed with caution

In his mind, Virgil started to panic. He decided that this wasn’t right, this guy wasn’t there to help him at all. It should've been obvious, but the pilot’s brain was canned soup at this point. He tried to focus on it, keep it firmly established in the whirlpool of his mind. 

In a state of quietly rising anxiety he set two goals: One - get the phone back. Two - get away. He looked around and realised he hadn’t seen where he had put the phone.  _ Ok Virgil, roll for intimidation.  _ He took a deep breath and shoved away from the man as hard as he could. 

He stumbled back and a cruel smile spread over his face. 

“Come on now don’t be difficult.” 

“Give me my phone n’ we can go our separate ways.” Virgil said, frowning as he tried his best to focus on the words falling from his mouth. He took a wide stance, but keeping on balance was proving difficult with the sudden lack of support.

The man straightened up and slowly pulled Virgil’s phone from his pocket. “What’ll you give me in return?” He said.

Virgil maintained his stance and stared him down, trying to blink the sudden wave of nausea away. He swallowed as the man slinked back toward him.

“Doesn’t seem much fair does it? Seems like I’m the one doin’ all the favours?” Virgil’s vision was on a slow tilt, he tried to stake himself out of it. His neck ached, his jaw felt loose all of a sudden. Suddenly the man was in his space and had his hands around his raised fists. He mustered all his failing energy and tried to hit him, but his fist swung past and the man’s grip held onto him painfully tight. He fell on one knee, legs finally giving up.

“N-no-” He managed to choke out, He struggled as he was pulled in by the man again, but it was no use, he barely had the strength to hold his head up anymore. Terror rose to the back of his throat like bial as it all became far to real.

“You’re in no state to make it home alone boy - face it, you need my help.”

Virgil’s heart was pounding as he was thrown into the back seat of a pickup. Face down into the leather seat. He was shut in and suddenly everything was so quiet, no traffic, no crickets. 

The man was suddenly leaning over him, he groaned as he tried to turn himself over, to escape, something,  _ anything _ . 

“Don’t you fuckin’ move you fuckin’  _ brat.” _ As he said it, long cold fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and gave a firm squeeze as he pushed his face further down. “So ungrateful.” Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to audibly whimper.

“You like that huh?” He laughed. His body was suddenly weighing on him and his stomach sank as he felt the pressing himself aging Virgil's ass with intent. The man let out a disgusting groan of satisfaction from behind him.

Virgil let out a choked sob as he struggled again to get up. The rough hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him back. 

“Didn’t I say not to move? Don’t make this hard now sweetheart.”

He grunted as his head was released, dropping to the seat with a dull thud that sent him spinning again.

Virgil could do nothing as his jeans were yanked down to the knees. He gave a low groan, his arms too heavy to cooperate. The man spat into his hand and started to rub up and down his entrance, Virgil squirmed at the feeling. His arms were quickly seized at the wrist and pinned behind his back. 

“Seems like maybe I didn’t give you quite enough pixie dust huh? That’s alright. Means you’ll be awake for the fun part.” He said in a low voice right by Virgil’s ear. It sent a shiver up his spine.

Those long fingers curled inside of him and he jerked back in shock. The man laughed at him. His mind went into overdrive and all he could think was  _ NO _ . But no matter what he did his body wouldn’t cooperate and he had no hope of moving the heavy man on top of him. 

The man moaned as he slowly pressed his long cock into Virigl’s ass. 

It burned. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t. He wanted it to stop. A shiver went over his body and he was sweating.

“ _ No- _ ” He finally managed to choke out, Tears slipping from his eyes. His voice was raspy and raw like his vocal chords had simply turned off.

“ _ S-stop- f- _ ”

The man started to push in and out, making disgusting noises of pleasure with each painful thrust. 

He was past his breaking point. Tears flowed freely from his eyes. It seemed the only option was to shut himself off completely.

He let go of the pain and let his mind drift, each second taking him further from his body until he couldn’t feel anything. He was alone in the darkness.

But the harsh voice of his attacker broke through and began to echo around the emptiness.

“Bet you love this huh? Smilin' at all the pretty guys, getting free drinks, thinking nobody will notice. Bet you secretly been waiting for this, getting’ fucked in some strangers' car.” 

_ No, it’s not true.  _ With that he was back. The pain rushed in again and he let himself feel it.

The other man was setting a grueling pace. Everything hurt like he was going to be sick. He wanted to go back to the darkness, to curl himself away from the man's cruel words, from the obscene noises. The pitiful cries he pulled from him, the way he groaned lustfully in response. 

He felt the man release his arms which dropped uselessly to his sides, only for him to take a tight grip on his throat, nails digging in at the sides of his neck. He felt lightheaded. 

His attacker let out a sickening moan, and for a moment collapsed onto him with his full weight, panting hotly into his ear. 

Virgil moved away again in his mind, right on the edge of consciousness. Not fully registering The car door opening and closing, the engine starting. The sound of it pulled him into a dark and restless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up on cold concrete, under the flickering neon light of a taxi stand. The rain was coming down softly, and the city was quiet. He tried not to think about how he had gotten there, but before he could stop himself the memories were flooding in and he screwed the heels of his hands into his eyes and cursed himself. He panted, angry, bitter and hopelessly sad. He looked around. No cars anywhere to be seen.  _ Home.  _ He thought.  _ Get home.  _ He slowly sat up, the world spun and somewhat to his relief he threw up all over the sidewalk, feeling disgusted, but somehow clearer in the head with the rest of the alcohol now out of his system. 

Moving proved painful, he found he was still weak and stiff all over. His left shoulder was particularly sore, presumably from where he had been tossed out onto the pavement. He rubbed it tentatively. 

He patted himself down and found that his phone had been slipped back into his jacket pocket while he was unconscious. He shuddered. 

Five missed calls from Scott, Two from John, and his GPS had been turned off. He gritted his teeth, not knowing what to do.  _ Get home.  _ How? Call a taxi? He’d been dropped off to the mainland by Scott, and he’d need him again if he wanted to get back to the island tonight. He Screwed his eyes shut, how could he face his brother now? How could he- He felt disgusting. Stupid.  _ How could you be so stupid Virgil.  _ He could hear his brother’s voice in his head. He sighed. Maybe it was better just to stay on the sidewalk until morning. Things would be better in the morning.

He didn’t get the chance to wait till morning. A moment later his phone began buzzing, and Scott's name came up. He stared blankly at it for a moment, feeling unable to pick up, but something inside him gave a shove and he held the phone to his ear.

He swallowed. “Uh, hey Scott.” His voice was so soft and sad, it didn’t even sound like him.

“What the hell man I’ve been trying to reach you all night!”

“Yeah sorry i-” 

“And where are you? Your GPS is off. Do You know how  _ worried _ we were?” Scott’s voice cut like a knife. Virgil closed his eyes. He felt heat rising to his face, blinked the tears away.

“Yeah I- I’m sorry, stupid thing to do really.” He said with a thin laugh, his voice breaking slightly. Scott must have started to catch on, because his voice returned stern, but not at him.

“Virgil?” 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.” 

“What’s wrong, did something happen?” The line lay dead for a second too long.

“I’m ok”

“You don’t sound ok.”

Virgil didn’t respond. “It's cold out here Scott.” He said, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll be there in twenty ok.” Virgil nodded silently, but gave no reply. “Hang in there ok just-” He sighed. “Just turn your GPS on. Twenty minutes.” 

“FAB.” 

Scott knew something was up, Virgil could tell. He would have to tell Scott eventually, he knew that. He wanted to tell him, he wanted Scott’s help, why did it make him feel so scared? He sat hunched over on the sidewalk in the rain, with anxiety gnawing away at him, for twenty-two long minutes.

When he finally did hear the roar of TB1’s engines powering down a block away, he felt frozen in place. A prickle of goosebumps ran over him, making him shudder. He heard Scott’s hurried footsteps slap the puddle of water, heard him call his name, but he couldn’t find it in him to turn. 

Scott slapped a hand on his shoulder and he flinched hard. 

“Virg,” He said, panting from the cold night air. “You ok?” His brother was staring at him with wide eyes, his pupil blown out so large it looked almost painful.

“Oh God Virg what did you take?”

“I-” He was trying to speak but nothing was coming out. “Someone-”

A deep crease set itself between Scott eyebrows, as he knelt down to his brother's eye level.

Virgil’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. His eyes were glassing over and Scott was starting to gather it wasn’t just from the alcohol.

“Some’n drugg’d me.” It came out all in a pile. “I’m sorry Scott, I-I know you w’re worried.”

The damn burst. He reached out for him and hung his head.

“Hey hey hey, it’s- Virgil don’t be sorry, it’s ok- it’s not your fault,” Scott stammered, unsure of what to do with a drunk, drugged and soaking wet younger brother, who was now sobbing profusely. 

In the back of his mind, rage started to grow for whomsoever should be unlucky enough to willfully harm his little brother. He tried to suppress the thought in favour of getting Virgil out of the rain and into Thunderbird One. 

He took Virgil by the shoulder’s. “Let’s get you home ok?” He said with a small smile, that was supposed to be comforting. “Can you stand?”

Virgil winced in response. He hadn’t really tried yet, but he supposed he had to if he wanted to get home. With the alcohol gone he was starting to shiver.

Scott took his hand and pulled him up, steadying him as he wavered. He staggered hard and Scott had to come in and take most of his weight, the sudden movement made his head swim and his eyes threatened to blacked over again.

“Come on Virg.” Scott grunted beside him. “You're a hundred and seventy pounds and soaking wet, I can’t carry you.” Distantly, Virgil set all his energy to walking in a straight line. They marched slowly down the empty street. There was a dark familiarity coming over him that he tried to press down. He looked over at Scott to reassure himself.  _ Just keep it together long enough to get to the ship, that’s all.  _ He told himself.

They finally made it down the street and Virgil passed out almost as soon and he was dumped in the passenger seat. Scott strapped him in carefully. He had hoped to at least get some wet layers off him before they took off, but he knew it would be futile to try while he was asleep. Scott studied his face carefully, his hair was ruffled, cheeks red, eyes dark and tired. Lines of care grew on Scott's face as anger started to rise up in him again.  _ He’s safe. That’s what matters.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not quite comfort but at least hes ok. if you really want more of this you may need to butter me up in the comments i rarely have the motivation to bring fics to a complete stop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains scenes discussing the events of the previous chapter. thought i'd include a warning because i know this can be particularly uncomfy for some people.

When Virgil slowly opened his eyes there was dread looming over him. It was a thin, distant feeling, like a tall dark figure he could just see his outshine out of the corner of his eye but wouldn’t face. His head felt thick and heavy, his eyes stung.

Scott was there, gently prodding him awake. “Come on bro let’s go inside.” 

The memories started to creep back in as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. The idea of getting up was becoming less appealing by the second. 

Scott caught the look on his brother's face and his first responder’s training kicked in straight away.  _ Distract the subject.  _ He reached down and all but pulled him out of his seat. 

“Going to the medbay, ok?” He said as he hoisted him up. “Don’t make me get the chair.” A slight look of horror crept into Virgil’s eyes. 

He  _ hated _ using a wheelchair. Crutches or nothing. Virgil nodded and shifted his weight onto Scott, now practically walking  _ him  _ to the infirmary. At least his mind was occupied.

The walk up there was quiet. Virgil was still pretty out of it even after a nap, and nobody else was awake. Scott noticed the way his eyes were fixed at a low spot down the corridor at all times, and he was starting to look pale, and cold. 

The question of what exactly had happened was buzzing in Scott's brain. His curiosity was nagging, but he was performing a rescue. He didn’t need to know what happened, only how he could help. It could wait until Virgil was safe.

Still, he was so quiet. Virgil was never that chatty but now was different. It felt like he was holding his breath. He had to get his mind off whatever he was thinking about.

When Virgil came out after changing into dry clothes he was still shivering. He sat up on the bed with his knees together and his arms bracing himself to stay upright. His dilated eyes darted around the room, avoiding Scott altogether. It made his heart sink.

“Standard checks and then you can go to bed ok?” Virgil nodded.

“You’ve done this list on Gordon so many times I bet you know it better than anyone huh?” 

He gave a weak half smile in response.

“Anything I should know outright?” He shook his head.

“Ok then. Alcohol poisoning?” 

“Threw up a bunch before you get there.” Virgil said, taking a sip of water.

“Gross, but good to hear.” Scott made a note.

“Are you hurt at all?” 

“Bruising to the left shoulder. Should be fine.”

Scott thought careful for a moment. It seemed like whatever he had taken was wearing off, which was good, but he was worried about Virgil’s mental state. He had never seen him this,  _ grey. _

“Mind if I take a look?”

Brown eyes finally met him just for a second. 

“No.” It was too quick.  _ No, you can’t look. _

There was no doubt in what he said. It startled Scott a little, but he didn’t want to corner him, so he said nothing.

“You said before, someone drugged you. Do you know what it was they gave you?”

Virgil shook his head the slightest bit.

There was a long silence between them while Scott set him up for overnight observation. Thoughts were stirring in his mind, he was angry certainly, and happy too, that Virgil was ok, but what could have shaken him so badly was a mystery to Scott. Getting roofied was traumatic in itself but the itch of not being able to piece it together for himself was getting to him.

He stood in the doorway, knowing he should let his brother rest, and yet wanting to stay. He chewed on his fingernails.

“Scott?” Virgil's look of anger was now replaced with worry. Scott laughed internally at the look in his wide dark eyes. Son of a bitch is worried about his big brother even as he lies in the medmay. 

He sighed walking over to gently place a hand on his shoulder.

“I wish I knew what happened.” He said softly.

“I know.” Said Virgil. He swallowed uncomfortably, stress rising ever so slightly. “Tomorrow.” He promised.

-

Tomorrow rolled around much too quickly. There was light in the Medbay before Virgil had been there three hours. Mercifully, he slept through it. 

In the meantime Scott had to explain to the others why Virgil was out of action. Gordon had guessed at a nasty hangover, and he had been tempted to tell them he had alcohol poisoning.

“I picked him up last night on the side of the road, it seems like it was a rough one. He’s a bit bashed up so take it easy on him.” Technically it hadn’t been a lie. Omitting ‘he was drugged’ was only to save him from questions he couldn’t answer.

Grandma Tracy was the only one to eye him suspiciously after the meeting. 

“Virgil has my constitution, that boy can hold more liquor than a ten gallon hat.”

“Eleven gallons does seem excessive.”

“Don’t be smart, young man. You’re leaving something out.”

Scott knew there was no way to successfully lie to Grandma. He sighed. “He told me he was drugged last night - Wouldn’t tell me what happened, I’m not even sure if he knows.”

“Shoot, is he alright?”

“Grandma  _ don’t  _ fuss over him ok he’ll clam up you know how he is.” He sighed. “Just leave this to me ok I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Sally eyed him carefully.

“I know how  _ you  _ get too, son.” 

Scott frowned. “You wear your grandfather’s stripes when it comes to protecting your brothers...”

“Grandma I’m not-” 

“I just want to make sure you’re thinking  _ clearly _ , thinking about what’s going to help Virgil, and what’s going to help  _ you _ .” Scott’s eyes shifted away.

“I’m not going to do anything Grandma.”

“You were thinking about it.” She said. She was right. “Revenge isn’t a good colour on you Scotty. On  _ any  _ Tracy.” The words bit just slightly as she walked away.

Scott scowled at nothing. He sat in the empty lounge stewing for a few minutes, until a light on his watch started to blink. Virgil was awake. He made his way down to the medbay.

-

Everything was stiff when he woke up. Arms, legs, neck and jaw. It felt like he had been tensing every muscle in his body for hours. He rubbed his eyes and a grey fog came over him. There was that lurking feeling again. 

In an effort to combat it he rolled hastily out of bed, catching himself as he stood too fast for his own good. He gave a shiver as if to shake the feeling off. Nothing five or six showers couldn’t fix. He hoped.

Scott was waiting when he got out of the shower. 

“Hey.” He said absently rubbing his hair with a towel.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” 

“Oh well, good. You really had me worried last night, you know.” He said. The cool air he had over him, suddenly made Scott feel like he was worried over nothing, or like last night hadn’t even happened. 

“Alright smother hen.” He said with a warm laugh. He seemed happy - perfectly fine. That was a good thing, of course it was, but something about it didn’t sit right with Scott. Something felt off.

The day went on as normal. Everything was pretty quiet, Gordon was out on reconnaissance with Kayo, Alan was doing school work and Virgil spent most of the day in the lab with Brains - Scott made sure he wasn’t needed on any missions.

The day felt strangely long and empty for the eldest Tracy. He kept finding himself wandering around with nothing to do, biting his fingernails, hanging around the empty spaces in the lab. He couldn’t relax.

By the end of the day he was pretty fried. He was agitated at everything, and realising why. His eyes flicked over to Virgil every couple of seconds over dinner. Afterward he sat him down at their Dad’s desk. The sun was setting outside and the lounge was quiet.

“Alright.” He said expectantly.

“What.” Said Virgil, waiting for him to explain.

“Debrief me. What happened last night.”

Virgil laughed. “This is what- Scott there’s nothing to tell.” Scott didn’t share his smile.

“Seriously!” Scott eyed him sternly.

“You’ve been acting like this all day, like everything’s fine.”

“That’s because everything  _ is  _ fine, Scott.”

“Last night you were so out of it you couldn’t stand, something  _ drugged _ you and dumped you on the sidewalk, you being all smiles today doesn’t make me think everything ok,  _ Virg _ , it makes me think you’re hiding something.” Scott was exasperated. The smile fell slowly. He couldn’t fool either of them.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was quiet.

Scott frowned, watching him pick at the arm of Dad’s chair. 

“Put yourself in my shoes Virg.” He pleaded. “What if it were Gordon out there? Or Allie?” Virgil froze. He felt sick. His brother's analogy was far more impactful that he could have meant. He flinched when Scott placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It matters. I need to know.” The wall that he had held up all day started to crack. He wanted to face it. He wanted to tell Scott. He knew he wasn’t walking out of this conversation any other way.

“It was a drinking game.” Scott leaned against the desk, listening attentively.

“I was five beers in before we started, eight shots in when we were done. It was stupid I-” He cleared his throat. 

“I was pretty deep in it, this guy I was drinking with offered to call me a cab, and- and he walked me outside. I didn’t know he’d slipped me something, I thought I was just super wasted.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wringing his hands.

“He took my phone. Threw me in his truck.”

“He- I didn’t- I couldn’t.” Tears were starting to well in his eyes and his brother was still and making no move to finish his sentence for him.

“I was awake, but I couldn’t move.” Virgil clenched his jaw.

“What did he do.” Scott knew the answer, but he didn’t want to believe it. A sinking feeling started in the pit of his stomach. Surely somewhere in the back of his mind he could have guessed at it. But there it was staring him in the face, and he wasn’t ready to believe it.

“Come on don’t make me say it.”

“He raped you?” Scott’s voice was shaking. The words hung in dead air. Virgil cringed, wanting nothing more than to take it back. He was silent.

Scott paced around for a moment. His mind started to fill with red. He balled his fists up so tight his nails bit into his palms. Virgil was still quiet. He didn’t look up until he heard the crash of Scott sending pictures and papers flying across the room. Virgil stood up.

Scott ran his hands through his hair madly. 

Virgil swallowed. “Scott-”

“What did he look like.” Scott's pupils were pinpoints as he eyes him.

“I don’t-”

“ _ Don’t tell me you don’t know! _ ” Virgil stepped back, heart pounding.

The red fell from Scott’s face as he realised what he was doing.

“ _ Scott!”  _ Kayo barked. They both snapped to attention. She had returned from the mission at perfectly the wrong time, and she stood in the doorway with Gordon hanging awkwardly behind her.

“That’s enough.” Her and Gordon were both eyeing the papers strewn about the room.

Virgil rushed off before Scott could catch him.

“Virgil-”

“Do we need to have a talk?” Kayo asked.

Scott scowled, heart still pounding. “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this and are wondering if talking to people about assault actually helps, here is your sign, it absolutely does :)


End file.
